Hair Flair

 “Love your hair and it loves you back!” 

Finally the day arrived.

My ‘Facebook’ friend of four years made a trip to my home town and was eager to meet me. Our feelings were mutual, we had exchanged virtual notes, loves and hugs many times. Although I knew her quite well, I knew that I would not be able to recognize her if I saw her on the road. All her photographs on FB showed only her face, she was always dressed in black from head to toe, exposing only smooth skin, heavy eye-make-up and a beautiful smile. When we met at the coffee shop of Hotel Marriott, we couldn’t stop talking, we had so much to share.

“Let’s go out for lunch and then we go shopping” I said

We went upstairs to her room to freshen up. I was stunned when she removed her Hijab and un-rolled her thick round bun, her jet black hair shone as it uncurled, and reached her hips covering her back like a thick satin curtain.

“Wow!” I whistled softly, and walked closer to her to strum my fingers through her thick mane, they were silky and slid smoothly through my fingers “Such beautiful hair you have, why do you cover it so? Let me click a picture of you, come stand here?”

“No, please don’t. I cannot remove my picture without my Hijab. My husband will be angry if he learns about this. My beauty is reserved for my hubby only. I cannot flaunt it in public.” She said.

Such beautiful hair and only one person could enjoy it? Utter waste of beauty! Didn't her happiness matter? Rolling up her beautiful hair like that and keeping it hidden behind the Hijab? Didn’t she feel like playing with her hair under the bright sunlight? Didn’t she wish to feel soft breeze blowing her hair or sometimes let it wet in the heavy rain?

I would have loved to keep the picture of her thick voluptuous hair that would inspire me to take care for my own hair but she wouldn’t allow me to click the picture. I wanted to know all the details of how she takes care of her hair, I begged her to share her secret...but she said there was no secret at all...just take care....no fuss…..

But I too have taken so much care….and that too with so much fuss..pampering it all the time.....

I too have loved my own silky hair
Straight and brown but with scanty flair
Tortured it yes, guilty, had curled it many times
Hair-extensions I added to make it look divine.
No! Never did they grow long or beautiful like this

Never had thick plait that went bumpty bump on my back

They never grew long like that of princess Rapunzel
Nor lost the long veil through love and tears
chop, chop, chopped until it looked like this

Maybe I should wear a Hijab or a long scarf too
To hide my shiny scalp that can hold no more clips
Tried different shampoos, oh yes! oils and beauty tips
But genes and DNA just helplessly glare
No remedies have helped
In family history runs scanty hair
I am afraid of the future
My granny scalp was also so bare
I hope that in my old age they don’t look like this

I desperately look for hair-specialist,
That will teach me to care
With healthy hair I will try out
Many hair styles that could be rare
With flowers, beads and lace
I could walk with grace
Making a fashion statement that will look
like this

Just twenty-five feathers left, and now I am scared
With finger-tips I regularly comb my hair
Careful forever, never to break them into bits
Oil them, steam them, and tenderly massage those flicks
Hoping they will blossom one day
Into lovely-dovey tresses
I will be walking on the moon
If they start to look like this

Participated in  “Love your hair and it loves you back!” blogger contest.

Royal Massage on a Lazy Afternoon

Walking for two hours on a dusty road can be tiresome especially when the scenery around you is all shoes and clothes, sea of perspiring people and the noisy traffic. It is at such moments that a visit to an air-conditioned mall can bring relief (even if it is only for a short visit to the loo). My feet are soaring and I spot 'Sabal', a foot massage parlor. I am reminded of my last visit to Bangkok, when at every opportunity we jumped for foot massage and it used to be such a relief. Late at night, my cousins and I, after shopping and dinner would head to the nearest massage parlour to pamper ourselves. Just for 300 Bhats, we would sit side by side, next to each other, on the smooth reclining chairs, behind the glass windows and get some relaxing massages. It used to be such a pleasure as we floated on our feet on our way back home.


I decide to try this one in the Link mall at Bandra.

The receptionist sitting outside the parlor hands me the various types of foot-massage on offer. There are four different kinds and she advises me to go for herbal massage. Since I have tried none before I opt for her choice.

I enter the dimly lit room that has a strong aroma of lemon grass. There are perfumed candles everywhere and one big picture of Buddha dominates the wall under warm spotlights. After a cold glass of water, I am led to the reclining sofa with cushions tucked behind my back. There are several girls in the room but they all look alike, same narrow slit eyes, long face, large forehead and nod with a smile. How do they recognize one Thai girl from another? Anyways, even in Bangkok I am confused when I see so many people of similar features. One with the crinkly eyes comes closer with a hot tub of water, containing some flower petals. She washes my dirty feet and I apologize. In India we wash the feet of the spiritual gurus, and I pretend I am the one. She smiles, maybe she is used to many, more such dirty feet walking into her parlor. She wipes my feet with warm towel and gently lifts them over a small stool. I stretch my feet and close my eyes. There is a soft, soothing piano music in the background. I am drifted to ether world. Wow! Such is the life!

The masseuse brings a tray of different herbal oils. She pour oil into her palm, rubs the oil between her palms and with circular motion she massages my feet, calves, knees and toes. I remind her to be a bit careful because I am afraid of wrong pressure on my nerves but she is proficient and works very efficiently. It is very relaxing and I take in deep breath (having learnt on TV channels that when we have nothing to do, we can utilize that time with breathing exercises, breathes in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.....) I feel her kneading my muscles with her knuckles, and then with finger tips and nails pressing on pressure points. When she starts her massage with blunt roller, I squint to see that blunt object but feel too drowsy to keep my eyes open. I drift back to sleep enjoying the soft music and pleasure of the warm tingling sensation on my feet. Suddenly there is a warm steaming rub under my feet. I cringe. The room is now filled with vapors and the scent of lemon grass is strong. This time I am curious to see the source of the vapors. I see a tub containing hot steaming oil on her side. She had a small muslin potli filled with lemon grass leaves. She dips this potli in the hot lemon seed oil and presses it lightly on my skin.

I am amused and started to converse with her, thanking her for the nice treatment. She asks me to visit her more often, explaining that it is good for circulation of the blood and in keeping oneself healthy. She talks about her life in India and tells me that everything that she used during the massage was imported from Bangkok. Her boss is an Indian married to a Thai woman. They have two outlets in Mumbai, one at Bandra and other at Infinity mall in Varsova. There are seven reclining chairs at Bandra branch spread over two levels. I did not see other clients and I was the only one, alone during my visit. Maybe it is expensive. For my foot herbal massage, it cost me Rs1500, if I were to ask the masseur to come home, they normally charge Rs150 for body massage. But then I think we pay here for the ambience and the feel good factor.

After the foot massage, I am asked to sit on lower stool and she gives me back and head massage, stretching my arms backwards and sideways and finally ended with massage on my arms, shoulders and fingers.

I was just thinking of visiting a natural ice-cream parlour across the street, post massage, when she entered again with the tray of fresh fruits (grapes, kiwi and apple) and a cup of hot ginger tea.

Light and refreshed I felt like a royalty in the kingdom of my own..

Real Beauty is Skin Deep

I, like millions and millions of people around the world, found my own mother the most beautiful woman in the world. Mom was a widow for last 40 years of her life and she only dressed in white.

Many years ago, when I lived in Surinam, Parimaribo, one of my friends invited me for a wedding ceremony. I asked my mom to accompany me. She wore a plain white silk sari, her hair rolled up into a small bun, and no make-up at all. For jewelry there was just a pearl necklace, 2 gold bangles and her diamond ear-rings (that she wore all the time). My friends were impressed. Next day when they met me, they told me that my mom was the most fashionable lady they had met. My jaw dropped. Fashionable? I thought my friends to be crazy. How could they call my mom fashionable when she was dressed so simple? She had no make-up on, no flashy clothes, no fancy handbag and no matching shoes. I looked closely at my mom to try to figure out fashionable element in her and discovered that my mom wore grace and a smile – maybe it was that what they perceived as elite. Who-so-ever met mom were always in awe with the way she carried herself.

Real beauty is skin deep, which is cliché but undisputable fact. One status I read recently on FB said “Search for truth and you shall find beauty, search for beauty and you shall find love, search for love and you shall find God, search for God and you shall have them all”

There are hundreds of ads on TV that show products that promises beautiful body, smooth and clear skin, long flowing hair, a group of admirers who will go ga-ga and drool over our physical beauty. I have met many people who fall for these products and who will swear that they will strive to be beautiful. I envy them when I see them dressed in most expensive finery that the money can buy. I know I cannot afford those things and even if I could, they won’t suit me. Every time I look into the mirror, it puts me into a pause mode. Not having a perfect figure is the big disadvantage. My mind drifts back to one nagging question “What will people think?” or maybe, I get conscious that some may feel sorry for me that nothing really suits me and am still trying so hard to keep abreast with fashion fads, which results into even more depressing mode than looking at the ugly figure in the mirror. I cannot change that so I stopped trying. I decided if anybody needs to see the beauty in me, they need to know me because I will continue to maintain the inner beauty instead.

Beauty has different meaning for different people, like in the video of Gul Panag, where she talks about women empowerment, of respecting oneself, which is also one facet of beauty, of building one’s pleasant quality.

Some time ago, one of my friends’ #FF me on Twitter as ‘beautiful people’ asking her followers to follow me. I was flattered. Now this friend is my virtual friend whom I have never met, (and not sure if I will ever meet her) so naturally she is not likely to learn about that image that haunts me everyday from the reflecting surfaces. For her, I am the person whom she knows through my writing abilities, through the range of my work with mentally challenged, through my choice of my friends’ circle, through my lens at photographs that I post on my walls. I have never tried to make any impression on anybody but sub-consciously, my thoughts get translated and interpreted into the messages that reach out to people who care.

A beautiful face can easily be Photo-Shopped on virtual wall, it just requires the right kind of tools to brush away the scars and blemishes but can our thinking and beliefs be hidden from the real world?

What kind of beauty is that if we wear it with an attitude? When we show no compassion for our fellow human being and are so occupied with our own self that we just don’t care?

We may have walked the red carpet with a crown on our head, have brought home thousand of gifts from our admirers during the beauty pageant, or even hosted ‘Get Gorgeous’ shows, but the fact is that besides being beautiful, we need to be draped with beautiful habits too. We throw away the dirty cotton swabs on our dresser after cleaning our face, the lipstick cover is missing, the talc powder is sprinkled everywhere and we wait for somebody else to clean our mess? Cleanliness is next to spirituality. If we cannot keep our environment clean then the bad vibrations that surround us, results in bad temper, restlessness and unstable mind. The bad mood seeps out of our thick face-pack showing the ugly chip of our character.

However rich our finery is, however expensive our cosmetics, the real beauty will never get a chance to shine its worth if it lies burried under the layers and layers of our bad attitude; the ugly lines of bad manners will continue to crinkle our face.

This Indiblogger contest is what kick started my thoughts on ‘real beauty’

Note: This post is written as a part of What does real beauty mean to you?? conducted by  Yahoo!! Real Beauty in association with Dove !!

and this is what I received as a gift hamper as a token of appreciation
Thank you Dove and Indiblogger.....